


Horsemen

by retikrit



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blue Lions Ferdinand von Aegir, Competition, Drinking, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Time Skip, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27471718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retikrit/pseuds/retikrit
Summary: Ferdinand joins the blue lions and is assigned stable duty with Sylvain. An opportunity for him to teach Sylvain about the duty of nobles, one for Sylvain to ogle the new recruit.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 87





	Horsemen

**Author's Note:**

> Completely based on this : https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=2445640 kinkmeme prompt!!!! I don't think it is smutty enough to count as a fill, but it is fully inspired by this.

Ferdinand waltzes into the Blue Lion’s classroom unpredictably, confidently, but most importantly loudly. It is hard to say if the new addition to their already tight-knit group is a welcome one, greetings are coldly polite and other means to welcome him seem forced at best. Ferdinand von Aegir at the very least creates a consensus, and does not seem to mind the awkward atmosphere that lingers around him only.

Sylvain almost pities him. He’s a nice guy, but five minutes around him are enough to understand there isn’t much more to discover about him beyond great speeches about nobility, an obscene need to be liked and an even more obvious wish to be in the right. None of that appeals to Sylvain, or apparently any of his original classmates.

A week quietly passes, time that Byleth needs to observe the new recruit and establish what kind of teaching he needs. They all have adapted lessons, weapons of choice and preferred fighting techniques, but Sylvain wouldn’t usually be curious about what his classmates are doing – except this time, he has to know, because Byleth talks to him personally. Ferdinand will be a cavalier, and essentially needs to work on the same points Sylvain does.

Pretty unfortunately, that means they’ll have from now on stable duty together. Sylvain had never been a fan of cleaning up horseshit before the sun is even out, but he always had the privilege of doing so on his own terms. He enjoys company, but some work simply gets done faster if he’s managing on his own. And that seems to belong to the past.

Ferdinand quite enthusiastically lets him know how overjoyed he is to be working with Sylvain, as if they weren’t discussing doing a peasant’s usual morning routine. Ferdinand certainly doesn’t look like a guy who’d dirty his hands for such tasks, as noble as they are, taking the risk to stain the pretty white gloves Sylvain has noticed on him. But he’ll give the guy the benefit of the doubt, and maybe even looks a bit forward to the next morning. Ferdinand von Aegir doing some dirty work could be a funny sight.

He regrets those thoughts within the first five minutes. Apparently that’s all it takes for Ferdinand to absolutely exhaust him without even trying.

He’s not wearing the usual uniform, neither is Sylvain for this, and has indeed removed the gloves. He keeps his voice high and loud despite the early hour, and doesn’t look tired at all.

“I must say, my love for horses truly is a remarkable thing. I am simply more relaxed, or even myself you might say, around them. Ah, I could probably spend the day here. In Aegir, I tried to help in the stables any time I was able to. Fine horses there, I miss them dearly. That is to say, I am really eager to assist you in any way you might find necessary. I understand your knowledge in the subject must be greater than mine, be it by your birth place or dedication to the well being of such beautiful creatures.”

Sylvain can think of a few ways to make Ferdinand assist him. None of them having to do with their work, he shoves them away. “Okay horse boy, let’s get some halters yeah? Follow me.”

Ferdinand indeed eagerly does so, with too much energy. “So, you are from Gautier, correct? I have always been curious about this place. I have studied maps of Fodlan and its surroundings since I was a little boy, and always wondered if distance between us really made a diffe–”

“Here,” Sylvain interrupts. He grabs a couple of halters himself, and points at the pile meaningfully.

“Of course.” Ferdinand is more delicate in his touch, but shows little hesitance. He wasn’t lying when he said he had done this in the past.

Sylvain snorts. “You thought we’d have horns or something? Is that why you’re joining us?” He decides to humor Ferdinand, just a little.

Ferdinand’s shocked intake of air is amusing in itself. “Dear Goddess, I thought no such thing! I simply… Well, I am looking for ways to improve myself, and it seems to me meeting people from different places, with different ideas or goals is a way of doing that. Broadening my horizons.”

That actually makes Sylvain pause, gauging Ferdinand’s seriousness. Surely, he knows about Sylvain’s reputation. Ferdinand is staring back at him, for once looking like he expects an answer, instead of a vague approval to continue a one sided conversation. Sylvain smiles, shakes his head, and walks back to the stalls.

Ferdinand follows closely behind. “And I was right! You – forgive my bluntness, you have a – well.”

Sylvain really doesn’t want to continue humoring Ferdinand, but curiosity wins over. He glances at him, at an angle he knows makes him look alluring. “What do I have?”

“Well, an accent.” That isn’t what Sylvain expected at all. Ferdinand, for the first time, almost looks shy. “At first, I thought it was a Faerghan accent – but it seems it is only you. I had never heard it before, forgive my excitement. It is lovely.”

Sylvain had never dared flirting that openly so early in the morning, so shamelessly while dressed looking like nothing at all, but it seems Ferdinand has no such concerns. This can only get weirder. “Huh, well you know, that’s not the only way my tongue can surprise you,” he flawlessly responds.

The noble laughs. Sylvain is, and that rarely happens, really surprised. “Oh, I can imagine. I look forward to that. Oh, I suppose we should get to it now.” He picks the stall next to Sylvain’s, and just like that they start the long and thankless work of leading all the horses out of their stalls.

Sylvain is still bewildered by the fact Ferdinand not only started but reciprocated lighthearted flirting by the time they are done feeding the horses their morning portion. Not in silence, of course, now Sylvain knows all about the life and death of Ferdinand’s first and favorite horse. The morning is concluded by another cheerful ‘see you in class!’ from Ferdinand, and they part ways.

* * *

Sylvain can’t be blamed for staring at the back of Ferdinand’s head in class, when it gets all nicely reddish from trying too hard to raise his hand before Annette can. He’s competing against everybody, but her mostly when it comes to theory. She, on the other hand, is competing against herself, and it gets Ferdinand all flushed and vexed to notice she doesn’t take him seriously. It’s entertaining enough, and Sylvain does think about what his tongue could do to Ferdinand.

He’s never been into redheads, but when later that afternoon a random girl from the black eagle class tries very hard to accidentally show him her cleavage, he thinks he could kill two birds with one stone and see if he likes running his fingers through her magnificent red hair. One thing leads to the other, he’s feeling her up in a darkened corner of the monastery, feels her hands doing the same.

He does not expect the now almost familiar shocked gasp, not so far away, and the authentic frown of disapproval on Ferdinand’s face. The girl in his arms is off him instantly, looking at Sylvain then Ferdinand in confusion. “Just ignore him, babe,” he tells her, while trying to follow his own advice. But Ferdinand is not going away. He stays there, and the girl eventually decides this mess isn’t worth it and rearranges her clothes before leaving.

Sylvain isn’t that lucky in his escape. “I cannot believe! This – that just happened – you! You had your hand! Under her skirt!” He’s furiously blushing now, and Sylvain wonders where was this prudishness was when they were discussing Sylvain’s tongue. “Did you even court her? Does her father know?”

“Relax, I wasn’t gonna marry her.” That is obviously the wrong thing to say, he realizes a bit late.

“I – I knew you had a certain reputation, but I thought – I don’t know what I thought, that maybe you had more self respect than this. How improper this is! I can’t believe it. Under her skirt! Do I want to know if this is the first time? Just – unbecoming.”

“Well thank you, Oh Ferdinand the great for informing me of the nature of my sins. Any other wise words you wish to share?”

Ferdinand doesn’t take the hint, and puts his hands on his hips, quite aggressively. “Why yes, this attitude needs to stop! Especially now that we are partnered together, I cannot be associated with such behavior!”

“Well, that’s quite unfortunate. I don’t see myself stopping any time soon.” He waves off the conversation, tries walking away once more.

“That simply will not do –”

“Ferdinand,” he says slightly more annoyed. Ferdinand stops. “Just shut up.”

For a time, it shuts Ferdinand up. Sylvain can see him silently seething, but it truly shuts him up. Sylvain should have appreciated that more passionately, for that was the one and only time it would ever work.

The next day they don’t simply take care of the horses, they ride them into battle. Byleth has them staying close to one another, trust that they will watch each others backs. A task that would be infinitely easier with anyone other than Ferdinand, in Sylvain’s good opinion.

Ferdinand simply hasn’t stopped talking. Up on his horse and on the ground, in the stables and beneath arrows, he simply will not stop talking to Sylvain, commenting his every move and giving away much unneeded advice. Suddenly, Sylvain isn’t standing straight enough, his hold on his lance isn’t firm enough, his horse doesn’t respond to him quickly enough, the list is endless.

There’s a short moment, when they’re catching their breath after the fight, where Ferdinand stares at him harshly, his usual pleasant features scrunching up. Sylvain feels more tired than usual.

* * *

Sylvain has to face the uncomfortable realization that he might have liked Ferdinand better before. He doesn’t go as far as actually liking him, but maybe he tolerated him more easily when he was simply full of himself and naively curious about Sylvain. Now, it is another story.

Ferdinand tries – persistently so – to befriend his classmates. He’s still hanging out with his friends from the black eagles, but spends an enormous amount of time trying to be nice and make conversation with all of his new classmates. Well, almost all of them. Now Sylvain finds himself in the awkward position of being the only one Ferdinand is less than pleasant with. He doesn’t think of it as an especially bad predicament, but is a bit annoyed by this development. He has to train and work with Ferdinand every day, a bit of crankiness should be allowed.

It doesn’t help that as it turns out, he’s very much into redheads. And that Ferdinand’s skin so beautifully blushes when he’s annoyed, feigning calm or very nobly lashing out. He isn’t as good as Sylvain with his lance, but moves with grace and has the body to go with it. Ferdinand von Aegir flaunts his status and talent knowingly at lot, but might not realize how tempting he makes his curves look. And Sylvain has always loved a challenge.

“It has broken.”

And Ferdinand sure is putting up one. Sylvain eyes the leather pitifully hanging loose. Ferdinand looks like a lost child, seeking advice for a broken glass. “So…,” Sylvain trails off.

Ferdinand frowns. “So?”

“So get another one? Get this fixed in the afternoon.”

Now his expression shifts to annoyed, and Sylvain wants to sigh. “This is my personal saddle! I can’t ride my horse without it! Who can I ask to get this fixed before this morning’s training?”

Sylvain chuckles. “Buddy, just use your horse’s regular saddle. You know, like everyone else? I promise you won’t die.”

“I know! Ah, you are probably right. I suppose old habits die hard.” His pout shouldn’t look as cute as it does, it pleases Sylvain anyway.

“Let’s get going then, silly boy.”

That brings some fire back to Ferdinand, not that he usually needs the help. “I am a perfectly capable individual, I would like it if you treated me as one!”

“Oh yeah, you’d like that,” Sylvain replies smoothly, and can’t help making it sound flirtatious.

Training that day is more chaotic than usual.

* * *

They’re cleaning the bits, water sloshing around their hands as they scrub the uncomfortable moisture off when Ferdinand decides he isn’t done talking Sylvain’s ear off.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think the officer’s academy is the perfect time and place to seek and engage in proper wooing of potential partners, and I for one have made some attempts, but it should always be done with at least a minimum of decency. Asking for a second tea date the very next day – that is already pushing it. There’s an etiquette. I believe –”

“Ferdinand.” Water stills. Ferdinand looks vaguely offended for being interrupted, but looks at Sylvain curiously. “Have you ever… Did you consider some people just want a quick fuck? That this isn’t about reputation, but momentary relief?”

Ferdinand splutters. “No – I – I understand people have urges! But we are gifted with the ability to ignore those urges, to tame them! To use women the way you do, to play with a person’s heart, it is wrong! For us nobles it is even crucial – to set an example, not let ourselves be… Be tempted so easily.”

“Oh come on. Are you going to live your whole life like that? Forbidding yourself simple pleasures? Then what, you’ll die after a long bitter life, but it’ll be worth it because you ‘set an example’? Even you can see how dull this sounds.”

“It isn’t dull!” He throws the bridle to the ground like a child throwing a tantrum, jumps to his feet. “The kind of noble I aspire to become, my ideals – they’re not dull! It is radiant, the future I plan to be a part of, it is full of love and glory that you can’t even imagine!”

Sylvain ignores the petty display and continues working on his task. “Yeah sure. What I know is people like us, me just like you, we’ll be footnotes. I’m just enjoying my life for what it is, and I sincerely believe you should too.”

Ferdinand disagrees with him, of course, but angrily gets back to work in silence.

* * *

Sylvain likes a challenge, redheads and feisty people. He doesn’t have a crush on Ferdinand, he doesn’t, but his dick does. He can’t avoid it anymore. Nor can he avoid Ferdinand’s horrified gaze when he spots Sylvain’s decidedly bigger crotch.

“What in the Goddess’ name is that?” He nearly screams, but Sylvain is desensitized to that.

He – quite obscenely – palms himself, making it more obvious what is going on. “You turn me on so much, when you’re trying to kill me.”

Ferdinand drops his lance as if burned, redder in the face than he was minutes ago. “Sylvain please, tell me you’re having a laugh.” The look on his face is priceless.

Sylvain smirks. “Oh no sweetheart, you haunt my every dream.” It sounds like a lie, Ferdinand will take it as one, and that makes it that much harder to guess it is actually the truth.

Ferdinand keeps looking at the entrance, now bothered that they could be interrupted at any time. He’s embarrassed, and Sylvain can recognize the repressed interest when their eyes accidentally meet. “Stop this at once.”

Sylvain obeys, puts his hands in the air. “Whatever you like.”

“No – This can’t be happening. You’re – disgusting. Sickening. I’ll be on my way, I –” He doesn’t bother putting away the forgotten lance, and strides quickly away.

Sylvain is left hungry for more, disappointed but not that surprised.

* * *

Sylvain is pretty confident in his assumption that Ferdinand is, after all, a virgin. Perhaps, he doesn’t even touch himself, or regularly cleanses himself of those thoughts. Maybe he talks to girls, tries to court them and shows romantic interest in them, but completely forgoes sexual aspects. But it is impossible a boy his age never had to confront them, in some way.

And perhaps, Sylvain can take advantage of this. Ferdinand’s oh so precious purity is charming, and the boy too easy to tease and unsettle.

“Your ass looks so good,” he whispers in Ferdinand’s ear. That causes Ferdinand to try to cover it, hands deliciously trembling.

“You can’t be meaning this.” Even his voice, usually so loud, quivers.

“You _offend_ me,” he mimics. “I pay a lot of compliments, that’s true, but I always mean them. Promise.”

Ferdinand escapes him soon after, and remains awfully quiet during that day.

* * *

Sometimes it’s a hand directly coping a feel, inappropriate remarks or wandering gazes. And for as much as Ferdinand calls him out on the indecency of his behavior, he doesn’t avoid nor curse Sylvain to death. Sometimes Sylvain will notice that Ferdinand’s payed more attention to his hair, the day after Sylvain commented that he’d like to pull on it, or started using different brands of perfume, after a particularly audacious sniffing.

Ferdinand’s not just a virgin, he’s a horny virgin. Sylvain knows when a girl is playing hard to get, or when she’s simply not interested, and it seems Ferdinand belongs in the first category, even though he wouldn’t admit it to Sylvain. Or perhaps, to himself. He still speaks of duty, what is and isn’t proper, and insists that what Sylvain is suggesting is foolish, wrong, and that this needs to stop. He never brings into the conversation how he personally feels about it.

Until the day of the tournament.

Exceptionally, they aren’t awake at ungodly hours cleaning up the stables, and have the day to prepare for the big event. Byleth insisted.

Ferdinand had been looking forward to it. Sylvain caught wind that Edelgard is attending, and so are some of the most talented students of the academy. The shadows under Ferdinand’s eyes don’t lie, he has been training late and hard. He’s restless all day, and Sylvain knows because he has been checking up on him. Out of worry for an acquaintance, of course. Ferdinand isn’t fun to be around, if Sylvain cannot tease him until he melts of shame at the words he hears.

And Sylvain knows Ferdinand needs to focus, and he is probably the last person at the academy who can help him. The glares addressed to him are clear enough.

In the end, Sylvain loses in quarter final, and Ferdinand in semi-final against Petra. A pretty good achievement, he believes.

Ferdinand doesn’t seem to share the sentiment. When all is done and the feast to celebrate blowing over, Sylvain unexpectedly finds the defeated noble sitting down, head on his knees and arms near his favorite’s horse stall.

Sylvain does a double take at the sight. A stolen bottle of liquor lays empty near, and Ferdinand’s sobs fill the silence of the night. Sylvain should probably leave. He never likes company when he gets like this, Ferdinand probably wouldn’t.

Ferdinand sees him before he can move away. He’s glassy eyed, probably drunk, and yet finds a way to convey how offended he is by Sylvain’s very presence. “I am not in the mood.”

Sylvain takes it as an invitation to join him. “Did someone offend in any way tonight? Must have been rough, that’s… unlike you, the depressed look.”

Ferdinand huffs a humorless laugh. “Seriously, Sylvain, did no one ever tell you to watch your tongue?” He sounds sarcastic, letting go of his usual decorum.

Sylvain sits down too, hoping to turn the tables. “Well, in my defense you once did wonder what that tongue could do.” Although, now Sylvain knows it must have been a misunderstanding.

Ferdinand collapses even more, if possible, covers his face with his hand. His cheek is still shining from earlier tears. “Why,” he says in an impossibly weak voice. It tugs on Sylvain’s heart, uncomfortably. “Why must you torment me so?”

This is not at all how Sylvain wanted his evening to go. He’s speechless, and for the first time wishes for Ferdinand to keep talking.

There’s a loaded silence, where Sylvain physically can’t move.

Then Ferdinand has mercy on him, or so he thinks. “I’m stupid. And I’m so, so tired of pretending I’m not. You think I’m stupid, and you’re right. I am. You keep pushing my buttons – Goddess, all of them – and know it’ll work, and it always does, because I truly am that pathetic. I thought I had a chance today, you know? I really thought I did. Stupid again. I am…” His voice cracks, Sylvain can see new, painful tears forming in his eyes. “I am a footnote. Maybe, I’d be lucky to be one at all. You were right.”

Sylvain usually would hug, or simply rest a hand on someone’s shoulder to comfort them, but it ironically feels inappropriate now. He nervously plays with the hem of his vest instead. “Well, you did better than me today, there’s that at least? You’re not stupid, you’re – dedicated.”

Ferdinand chuckles, Sylvain counts that as a win. “I want to fucking hate you, you know.” Or maybe not. Ferdinand is looking at him now, without judgment or any kind of emotion. “Dedication isn’t talent, I won’t be stupid enough to believe that anymore. I am not blind. Sylvain, you did not train even once for this. You lost because you faced Felix. I am a footnote, but people like you, like Edelgard, they won’t be. They make history, and people like me get to watch them.”

“That’s just not true. Lots of shitty people make history too, it doesn’t mean a damn thing. I mean – listen, I don’t know you that well –”

“Fuck me.” Sylvain freezes. Ferdinand looks at him like a battlefield he’s ready to fight in, unyielding. “You can have me. You did it, you debauched me, I want you to take me like the pathetic noble I am.”

An incredibly tempting offer, Sylvain considers it for five good seconds. But he’s also no stranger to what Ferdinand is doing right now, what Sylvain does almost daily, and that kills whatever boner he could have had at those words. Sex as a punishment is pretty sexy in Sylvain’s good opinion, but he would feel bad inflicting that on Ferdinand.

And, it makes his heart ache in a weird way. He decides it truly would be a bad idea, and this isn’t how he wanted Ferdinand to yield. “No.”

It takes Ferdinand some time to notice that Sylvain means it. Then, he scowls. “Oh, and now I am not even good enough for the town’s slut to want me. Great. Anything else you’d like to add? Something horrible please, make this evening worse than it is. I’ll take everything.”

“I think I’m gonna carry you all across the monastery and into your room, so that you can sleep there.”

Ferdinand groans. “Please, don’t.”

“Then I’ll wake you up in the morning and drag you here again, and you’ll beg me to stop because your head is hurting too much.”

Ferdinand tries to disappear under his arms, but doesn’t fight Sylvain’s embrace seconds later and the doubtlessly embarrassing way he’s being brought back to the dormitory. True to his word, Sylvain brings him into his room, and selfishly takes one long last look at this drunk Ferdinand cutely mumbling about nobility and etiquette.

* * *

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Sylvain honestly says. He’d never force Ferdinand to talk.

“I really, really don’t want to talk about it. Please, forget all about it.”

“Okay,” Sylvain repeats. Because he really, really, will do whatever Ferdinand wants.

* * *

Sylvain catches Ferdinand sighing like an opera star at the sight of Edelgard on the training grounds, as strong as ever. Without warning, he drags Ferdinand away, ignores the indignant yelp and leads them into one of his special dark spots where no one will look for them.

“You’ll never be Edelgard.” Ferdinand flinches. “But you’ll always be Ferdinand, and trust me, that’s already a lot. I don’t have half the dedication you do, or any of the drive I should to accomplish anything. I thank you for your optimism, but I don’t think I’ll make it in any kind of history book that matters. But… you could. You annoy people into liking you, and suddenly one day they want to follow you because you’re that ridiculously charismatic. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I’m sure you could have an important place in it.”

Ferdinand stares at him. Sylvain feels the need to scratch his neck, or maybe make a joke about it. Instead, he hurriedly adds, “And I think I’m starting to admire that about you.”

He doesn’t expect the small, but there, blush on Ferdinand’s cheeks. It isn’t the time for that, and somehow Sylvain feels more naked now than when he was whispering obscenities in Ferdinand’s ear. Ferdinand wasn’t supposed to blush now, Sylvain wasn’t supposed to hand him part of his heart that easily. “I… hm –”

“Good talk!” He turns on his heels, and abandons a still very shocked Ferdinand there.

Sylvain’s heart is beating too loudly for his liking.

* * *

Ferdinand, along the way, has befriended most of the original blue lions. He adapted on the battlefield, knows how to be a strong asset, when to strike or retreat. He eats lunch with them, and discusses lessons with Annette.

Sylvain really, really wants to have his way with him. The tournament fiasco made him stronger, as if failures and disappointments were the very thing fueling his need to improve. He’s still insufferable, and picks fight with Sylvain as often as he can, but that horribly does the opposite of extinguishing Sylvain’s affections.

It doesn’t help either that, voluntarily or not, Ferdinand has found ways to find himself in incredibly ambiguously sexy positions around Sylvain. It’s a challenge, not letting his hand once again going places it shouldn’t. But Sylvain is successful.

He decides he should do something about it.

On a beautiful day, in the middle of the dining hall and with bored eyes watching, he strides towards where Ferdinand is eating with a large bouquet of colorful flowers. This isn’t the first time, nor the last, that he does this, but it certainly is the first time he’s doing it for someone like Ferdinand, with no intention of ending whatever they could have in a week.

His palms are sweaty. People are looking at him, but none of them have the same unbelieving expression Ferdinand does.

“For the sun rises again, my love may know no end – and if I asked you friend, I know you would take my hand.” That, being a quote from an opera Ferdinand had mentioned to love, and Sylvain had the chance to see too. The bouquet was very especially made to match, and there is no doubt Ferdinand realizes this too. He gapes at the display.

Sylvain doesn’t move, waits for the expected smile and maybe even a thank you. It never comes, when Ferdinand comes back to the living he merely raises from his seat, and ushers Sylvain away. When they’re far enough, he unleashes his surprise. “What the hell was that about!”

Besides feeling happy to be able to make Ferdinand curse, Sylvain also feels his heart being sliced in two cleanly. “Courting?”

Ferdinand looks at him with utmost concern. “Sylvain – you don’t do that. Are you quite sure you feel al –”

Sylvain maybe feels like fainting. “You tell me all the time to fix my attitude. Are you mad I’m listening to you?”

“No, of course not, I simply…” He flushes, and that is a welcome sight through Sylvain’s despair. “You made it sound like a marriage proposal.”

Sylvain frowns. “So you’re saying you wouldn’t marry me?”

“No! You just – I thought I had disgusted you too much that night, or I don’t know, and you wouldn’t look at me the way you did so I thought… Now this? I am truly at loss Sylvain.”

“Ferdinand, I couldn’t get your ass out of my head even if I tried. I’m just trying to do this right, for you.” He presents the bouquet, once again.

Ferdinand looks like he might be the one about to faint. He looks away, then at the flowers, then at Sylvain, and away again. “Well, then, I guess I should…” He takes the bouquet, awkwardly. His gaze skillfully avoids Sylvain’s now. “Good choice.”

“Thank you,” Sylvain hears himself say.

Ferdinand stands there, bouquet too big in his arms. All is said and done, and although he has hope, Sylvain really wants to walk away from this before Ferdinand changes his mind. He’s almost successful, but Ferdinand’s voice stops him. “Tea! Tomorrow afternoon. If you’re amenable, of course!”

Sylvain’s traitorous heart speeds up, but he lets it be. He smiles. “Okay, horse boy.”

And so the long and difficult road of courting Ferdinand von Aegir begins, but it might just be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!


End file.
